#but they know - more or less - what the emperor wants from them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beatrice-otter · 9 months ago

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I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.

You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.

I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.

On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.

Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.

On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?

First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:

Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).

Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.

Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.

Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.

So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.

Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.

Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.

Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.

And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.

I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.

But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.

"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."

Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?

#us politics

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verysium · 1 year ago

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attractive things bllk characters (unintentionally) do?👀

i received this ask and decided to write this entire thing through a caffeine-powered fever dream. may have gone a little overboard. please pray for both your sanity and mine. thank you anon for your strong sense of imagination (or delusion, whichever you prefer.)

nagi lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and you accidentally (or not so accidentally) get a good look at the droplets running down his abs and v-line. he also does the doorway lean while waiting for you to get ready. since he's so tall, he puts his one arm up on the top of the door frame while scrolling through his phone. when he feels drained of energy, he clings to you like a koala, face buried into the crook of your neck.

rin pushes his hair back when his bangs get in the way, and it shows off his ridiculously sharp side profile. sometimes you have to pause mid-conversation because the direct eye contact gets too intense. he has the brightest turquoise eyes in existence, and they stare right into your soul. pair that with the height difference and him towering over you. hang onto your ovaries because this man is about to snatch them. if isagi or sae are anywhere remotely close within your vicinity, he will personally drag your chair closer over to him. you know, the whole nick jonas chair pull thing? he also unintentionally clenches his jaw when pissed, the vein popping out and everything.

barou is polite to his elders. he holds the door open for others. he tips extra at restaurants. he is kind to service workers. he's just a gentleman overall even though he likes to act tough. he rolls up his sleeves while cleaning or cutting up vegetables, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearms. wears those form-fitting aprons where you can see the outline of his waist and the muscles in his back. he is not immune to raging pit bull moments, but he will calm down immediately when you ask him to.

kaiser requires physical touch to function. all concept of personal boundaries goes poof in his little ego-driven brain. he holds your chin so you look up at him while he's talking. also has that husky growl when he wakes up in the morning. he speaks german. what else is more attractive than that? if you stroke his ego, he will puff his chest out like an emperor penguin and flash that movie star smile. does not slow down his pace for you, and will laugh at your expense when you trip in heels and fall. but then he feels guilty about it and begrudgingly picks you up and carries you home. however, before that he will make you swear on everything holy to never tell isagi about his moment of weakness. (tbh kaiser is a menace and has some serious self-esteem issues. pls avoid dating a man like him in real life until he is fully mature. i still love him tho.)

reo mansplains but not in the condescending way. he does so in the "omg i'm so excited to finally get to share something with you and you're never going to believe it" sort of way. rambles on and on about his interests and gets that little glint in his eye when he's passionate about something. also not sure if this counts but he gets extremely depressed when you don't message him back within five minutes. what do you mean you were busy? he was out here dying from a literal famine. he needs your affection to survive. last but not least, he is good at styling. he knows what colors work best for you, and he will put together three new looks for you in record time.

hiori dreams that you left him for good and wakes up crying with his arms around you. will refuse to let you leave the bed even if it is just to get a glass of water. his rare moments of emotional vulnerability are what gets to you.

shidou does not condone any of your bad decisions. you want to get shit-faced and party until early morning? no complaints from him. you want to wear sexy outfits to the club? say less because he's about to enjoy the view and knock out the front teeth of every guy who dares to ogle you. i don't know if this qualifies as being attractive, but he would never be the controlling type. you can dress and act however you want. unfortunately for you though, this is also a textbook case of the blind leading the blind. if you get horrendously hungover, so does he. if you get pulled over, he's going to be too blackout drunk to even comprehend the officer's words. you can count on him for a good time, but not anything else. do not take any of his advice at face value.

oliver likes to show you off even if he doesn't notice it himself. any talk with his team, and he will find a way to make the entire conversation about you. at this point, the entire u-20 team is done with him. they placed bets that you two wouldn't last more than a month due to his philandering reputation, but the universe seems to think otherwise because you and oliver hit the six-month mark and are still going strong.

ness guards your drink with an unnecessary amount of protection. while you left to go use the restroom, he was looking left and right, and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling every time someone even came close to your cup. he also shoos away any person who opens their mouth while standing next to your drink because apparently the condensation from their breath could be dangerous. definitely covers your cup with both hands even if it has a lid. no suspicious shit is happening on his watch.

yukimiya is well-read, and he wears glasses. he has a copy of every single classic out there in existence and will fangirl along with you over your virginia woolf collection. he was written by a woman with two cats and a wine glass. not much else to say.

loki absolutely clears the entire carnival/arcade game. you want that giant teddy bear that costs over three hundred ticket points? say less because he's about to win the whole damn pot. of all characters, i would say he's one of the only green flags. like celery green.

isagi always looks for you when he enters the room. intentionally or not, he always seeks your presence. if someone says a funny joke, he turns to you to see if you're laughing or not. also does that somewhat creepy stare thing where he just looks at you quietly while you do mundane tasks. internally he is screaming cus what do you mean you actually like him?

chigiri gives you that thankful little smile whenever you stand up for him. i feel like people don't understand how goofy he can get as he's canonically good at doing impressions/impersonations. also has the prettiest laugh. if he ever cuts his hair, i think i'm going to get a nosebleed.

noa unconsciously says yes to every question you ask of him. he'd be giving bastard münchen a hard time (and denying isagi's requests) but then immediately once you come over, he's automatically acquiescing to everything you say. the rest of the team is low-key shocked you can win him over so easily. when they confront him about it, he just shrugs and goes "y/n is always right."

kurona's entire existence is attractive. he's just perfect. nothing is ever wrong with him. will let you check out his shark teeth and lightly pokes your finger to leave an imprint. hopefully you'll always remember him that way. he's also quiet so he will listen to everything you say and give ample weight to your words.

sae is my baby girl so he gets a whole section dedicated to himself:

absentmindedly plays with your hair. when you're sleeping in his lap, he'll gently run his fingers along your scalp. sometimes in the morning when you're sitting up on the edge of your bed to do your makeup, he'll come up from behind you and brush back your hair. might also press a kiss to the back of your neck.

helps you put on your face mask. when he's shopping, he will buy you lotion along with his own skincare products. says that it was just a convenient store run but you know he personally made sure to get you the best quality ones.

this is canon because i said so: when he gets out of the shower, he slings the towel over his neck or his shoulder. he also involuntarily flexes his biceps when he bends down to grab something. has the world's most defined deltoids.

when you're stuck in large crowds at the airport, he puts his hand in your back pocket to keep you two from getting separated. if the TSA pat-down is anywhere too personal for his liking, he will openly glare at the officer once you've passed the security checkpoint.

bonus point: when you two brush your teeth early in the morning, he has that little bed head where his shorn-off bangs stick up in cute little tufts here and there. will have a dead look on his face, but his eyes soften when he catches your gaze through the mirror.

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cherrysweets-world · 17 days ago

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Invidia

masterlist - part two

Pairing - unrequited Geta x caracalla’s wife!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, can be read as a standalone

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If you could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of you and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggle, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

#caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #gladiator 2 #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #pining #geta x reader #geta x you #caracalla x you #emperor Geta #emperor caracalla #emperor Geta x you

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frannyzooey · 2 months ago

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Veneration

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E

a/n: another piece from Ao3 — enjoy! ❤️

—

“Where is she?”

Marcus stalks into his chambers, his white cape billowing behind him, a guard following in his wake.

“I asked for her, sir. I’m not sure where she is. She –”

“Just find her,” he growls, frustration etched on his face.

The guard makes a hasty apology, slipping from the room. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

Candles fill the space, pools of shadows gathered around the edges. The fabric on the bed is rich and decadent, every piece of decoration in the room dripping with luxury.

It’s jarring, after so many months living in a battle tent.

A table filled with food in abundance, he bypasses everything on it for the jar of heady wine. Pouring himself a cup, he drinks deeply.

He thumbs at the slice on his neck, smearing blood on the tips of his fingers. His hands are used to being drenched in blood, crusted with it, the firm hold of a sword nearly molded to the creases of his palm.

It took everything he had not to raise it to the fucking pup who cut him. The one who is so careless and callous, he threatens to burn down everything Marcus has worked for.

All of his protection, wasted. His entire career, played with for sport.

Where is she?

He rips the pin off his tunic, tossing it to the side — he should be more careful with it, but he’s in no mood to be careful with anything. The laurel comes next; the stupid fucking pageantry. He’s a general, a man made of sweat and blood and his fingers tear at the clasps of his armor, but he quickly gives up, pouring another cup of wine. Beautiful and untarnished, the armor is all for show, just like the adornments they covered him with.

It felt good to ride through the city and wave to the people he has been campaigning for months, but he could do without the show of it all. He recognizes the need for celebration, and he’ll gladly give it to them, but he wishes he could do it in his actual armor. The one he defends their city in. The one nicked with a thousand dents from a thousand swords. The leather that fits to his body like a second skin, and he wished for it during the ceremony more than ever, wanting to present himself to the city like the soldier he is.

He sighs, the weight of the day resting heavy on his shoulders. He’d hoped he’d feel more relieved after his conversation with Lucilla, that maybe he’d finally have someone useful he could persuade to act – and yet, the conversation was fruitless.

Frustration throbs behind his eyes, and he closes them, rubbing at his brow.

“You’d think someone who just had a parade held in their honor would look a little less plagued.”

At your voice, his head snaps up. He watches you slip into the room, servant girls on your heels.

He shakes his head, a stern look on his face. “Alone.”

His command is clear, and you obey, dismissing the girls with a slight wave. All for show in the first place, they turn and leave the two of you.

“Where have you been?” he asks. “I’ve been waiting to see you since we entered the gates.”

You walk closer, bending to pick his cape off the floor. “You know I’m not allowed up there with them.” You finger the rich fabric, fighting the urge to bring it to your nose just to inhale his scent.

A scent you’ve missed for almost a year now. A scent that was pressed into your bedding before he left, a scent you used to have memorized from the soft divot just underneath his ear. Oil and sweat and a heady fragrance that clung to his curls and clothes - one you’d been longing for since he left you behind for the promise of North Africa.

“I know,” he answers. “I thought you’d come to see me sooner. Or that I would have seen your face along the route.”

“Would you even have remembered what it looked like?”

It’s childish, the question. You know it, but a barrier comes up automatically, placing protection around your heart. You were so sure of your bond until you saw him climb those steps, taking his place alongside the Emperor. A tiny prick of doubt at the display of his status bled within you, and though you want nothing more than to run to him for reassurance, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“How can you even ask that?” he asks lowly, hurt and frustration buried between his dark brows.

He steps closer, and yet you withhold, standing your ground.

You did see him on the route, hidden in the back of the crowd, watching from underneath the hood of your robe. The second you heard he was approaching the city, anticipation stole the air from your lungs, so strong that you had to stop your chores. A thousand different scenarios of reuniting with him swirled through your mind, all of them abruptly stopped by the remembrance that you couldn’t greet him. Not in public, not where anyone could see. You watched him instead from the depths of the crowd, feeling pride as he rode past.

There, he looked like a shining god. Here, in front of you, he looks older.

Aged in a way that makes him even more handsome, there is new gray along his temples. More, along the curve of his jaw. The candlelight catches strands that mix in with his dark curls, and you take in the wrinkles the line the edges of his eyes, the ones that crease his forehead. The one between his brows was there before he left, only it’s deeper now - something you know has to do with the way you haven’t touched him yet.

“This finery suits you,” you muse, fingering the edge of his armor.

He scoffs, catching your hand in his. Bringing it to his mouth, you watch with rapt attention as his lips mold to your knuckles, one delicate kiss after another.

“I hate it,” he mumbles against your skin.

You smile. “Then let’s remove it.”

–

He’s patient as you help, but barely.

You can feel the tension radiating off his body as you unclasp his armor and lift it off, the heavy leather set to the side. His eyes stay trained on you as you guide his thick tunic upwards, discarding it onto the floor. He stands in his underclothes for a moment before you sink to your knees and undo the tie at his waist, letting them fall as well. Bare now for your eyes, you inspect him from your position, your hands running over his skin.

It’s familiar, yet not: new wounds that have healed, new scars for your touch. He stirs under your exploration, twitching along his thigh, but you don’t give into the touch you know he wants - not yet. You used to spend hours exploring his body: working oil into his tired muscles, memorizing the firm planes of them born in the training yard. He’s just as thick and strong as you remember, maybe even more so now.

Standing, you turn to retrieve a strigil from his bedside table, undoing the clasp of your tunic with one hand with your back facing him. It falls from your shoulders, slipping onto the floor in a puddle of cloth and when you turn to face him, the hunger in his gaze at your nakedness floods you with arousal.

“They bathed me before the parade,” he says dismissively, glancing at the tool in your grip.

You had a ritual before he left: he would summon you to his chambers, and be waiting for you. You’d help him undress, and sometimes you’d bathe him, but sometimes he liked it better this way - your small hands smearing rich oil along his tanned skin, your fingers working it in. The deliberate strokes of the strigil swept along the lines of his muscles, the tool gathering all the grime and the dust and the sweat from the yard. Never enough that it disappeared though. You smelt it on you when you slipped from his chambers later that night, always pressed into your limbs, his seed trickling from between your thighs.

Assuming he wants the same veneration tonight, you’re surprised when his hand flicks out faster than you’re prepared for, his grip relentless on your wrist. It tightens, and he pulls you towards him, your back to his front. The heat of his body is flush with yours, the weight of his cock thick along the curve of your ass.

“How long I’ve waited to have you,” he breathes into your ear, his tone a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The scruff along his jaw scrapes against your skin, and you melt into him. “Why are you doing this?”

You drop the stirgil on the tiled floor, the sound barely heard over the pounding of your heart. Letting yourself lean against the thick, broad plane of his chest, his hand lets go of your wrist to skate up your side, roughly palming the weight of your breast. He groans when he touches it, a relieved one that blends with your softer moan, and his other hand curls around your front, cupping you firmly between your thighs. His fingers reach for the curve of your entrance, his teeth scraping along your shoulder when he finds you wet. His touch lingers there, his fingers spreading you to find more evidence of your need.

There is a tension that still vibrates from his form behind you, hidden underneath his skin. He’s holding himself back just for you, and though you want nothing more than to put aside your hesitation and your pride, it’s actually easier to do it this way. To encourage him to take, so different than the sweet murmurs you’ve wished for in the night, less vulnerable than the tender touch of his hands.

You want it to hurt, just like you’ve hurt, and you know he also needs this right now.

Your hand rests upon his, sliding it up.

Up, up, up until it circles your throat.

He flexes his grip, his fingers pressing into your pulse that thrums underneath his touch. You give him silent permission — permission to be the one he wants to be with you sometimes.

Permission for him to be rough, like he is in battle.

Permission to take you as he needs to take you.

Tilting your head to the side, you whisper against his scruffed cheek. “I’m yours, General.” The title gives away the game, your slip into character. “Tell me what you want.”

Your words set him alight, his body moving just how it does on the field: in control, precise, power emanating from his stance when he tugs you away from him and pushes you to your knees. He blocks out the light above you, his fingers curling around your chin to pull you closer. Your hands splay on his sturdy thighs to catch your balance, and he steps forward, crowding you.

“Open your mouth.”

An order, like he was born to give.

Dutifully you do, and he wastes no time feeding himself between your warm, wet lips. The thick tip of his cock brushes against your bottom lip, the weight of him smearing across your tongue the deeper he gets. He tastes so good and so familiar, so musky and masculine, and your tongue runs along the underside of his shaft, curving to the skin as he hardens even more. You slide it along every ridge, every vein of his thick cock, and when he pulls back just before pushing himself deeper with a groan, you swirl your tongue around the rounded tip.

Going back for more, you do it again.

Your hands slide up his thighs to his hips, your fingers digging into the skin, and you pull him deeper, encouraging it. He groans loud and shameless, your cunt throbbing when you look up to the light flickering over his skin. It looks so rich and real , your hands slipping backwards to palm the curve of his ass with a greedy grab.

The release of want pours from you both, his body still tight with tension but a different type of tension: not frustration, but need.

He gives in, thrusting into your mouth harder, flickering candlelight catching the drool that gathers around the edges of your mouth and slides down your chin. Your cheeks hollow, his thumb fitting into the indented curve. Your eyes shut tight, his cock pushing against the tight ring of your throat. He holds there for a moment, and then pulls out, his is cock glistening and he strokes it while you catch your breath, but you’re already grabbing for him before you’re ready.

“I want more,” you beg, your voice hoarse. “Take what you need.”

He strokes himself faster, harder, his stomach tensing.

“I know you’re holding back, but don’t. Take anything you want from me. I can take it.”

Those are the words that do it. He growls, his hand palming the back of your head to force you back onto his cock. He pushes it past your lips as far as it will go and then some, not stopping this time when he reaches your throat. He feels the tight, constricting curve of it, and pushes a little further still, thickening at the strangled whine you let out into the dark curls at the base. Swiping the hair from your face, he cups your cheeks in his hands and angles your face to turn up towards his own.

Then, he fucks.

His pace is relentless, brutal, his cock slipping into the tight fist of your throat with every thrust forward. Stars dance along your vision, your chin soaked with spit. Desperation radiates from him, his grip tightening on your face, your fingers digging crescents into his hips and he groans, wanting more pain.

A familiar ache, one that he’s used to. Something to distract him from the deeper pain of your hesitation when you first walked in the room. Deeper still, the ache he felt for you while he was gone.

“You have no idea how much I missed you. How much I missed this.” Every word of his confession is mixed with his heavy breaths, with soft grunts from the back of his throat.

You hum, a tiny frown pulling between your brows. You missed him just as much, missed this just as much — the way he emanates authority, the way he bends and molds and positions you just like his soldiers, to do as he bids.

He pushes you further, shedding the frustration and pent up tension of the day with every harsh stroke. He feeds it to you, makes you swallow it as it pours from him into your waiting mouth and an ache blooms in your throat, your jaw tense with the effort of trying to stay open wide enough for him to fit. Slipping your slim hand between his strong thighs, you cup his heavy balls with a tender squeeze — a touch that makes his head tip back as they draw up.

Harder, faster and then he doesn’t give you any warning before he fists your hair and pulls you off his cock, stroking it with a slick, rapid beat to come on your chest. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts.

More, when you start to smear it into your skin like oil, pressing it into your skin.

When he’s finished, he sags with release — though you know he’s not done. His hands reach for you, pulling you up off the floor and then finally — finally — he kisses you.

Fevered and desperate, his mouth open to taste yours, his tongue sliding against your own. Your fingers thread through his curls to keep him close, and his own dig forcefully into your skin, as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you tight. They splay to slide up your back and down again, stretch to cup the curve of your bottom and he lifts you to carry you over to his bed. He means to drop you there so he can sink to his knees, but when you cling to him, he falls with you, his weight settling over your body.

This — this is what you dreamed of every night he was away. This is what you held onto, this is what you missed. This version of Marcus that no one else gets. Not the stoic General, but rather the tender touch of his calloused hands. The slide of his body against yours, the murmurs of his adoration poured along the column of your neck.

Your legs wind around his waist, your hips canting up and he groans into your mouth at the sticky smear you leave on his stomach. More than ready for him, desperate for it.

“My love, I need a minute.”

My love. The endearment fills your heart until tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and you pull him closer, wanting to be buried underneath his bulk. Winding your arms around his neck, you keep his mouth pressed against yours, only to frown when he pulls away.

“I need a minute,” he repeats, his head bending to brush his mouth along your throat. “But let me indulge myself in the meantime.”

You watch the muscles in his thick shoulders shift as he holds himself above you and bends his head, taking your breast into his mouth. It’s a greedy suck, his hand pushing the soft weight of it up so he can fit more. His teeth scrape against the peak, and then he’s moving onto the other one, giving it the same attention while you moan underneath him.

Down further still, he presses kisses along your belly, against each hip. Your thighs open wider, making room for him. A part of you expects him to tease you like you did him, but he doesn’t — he settles in, hooking his arms under your thighs and spreads you wide right before he bends to devour.

Your hands rest upon the top of his head; your own version of a laurel resting on his curls. No adornments, no finery, no pristine armor and gold.

Your eyes close, savoring the slow, wide licks of his tongue. The devotion he gives your cunt with every slick, firm slide.

Not the General that the city fears and adores in equal measure - just Marcus, bending the knee for you.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius/you #marcus acacius/reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator ii #pedro pascal

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! I have an idea but I don't know if you'll see this. I don't know maybe where Geta and Caracallas' wife is pregnant with twins but she doesn't want her children to grow up in a place like Rome, so she flees with the help of General Acacius far from Rome and lives in a cozy and humble house. While Geta and Caracallas are furious about the departure of their wife but they don't know anything about her until two years later when they receive valuable information and send for her to return to Rome. It is until then that they realize what the reader was hiding.

If it is not well translated it is because my language is not English

You will never escape our love

Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt, dubious consent, kissing, mention of war and death, family problems, mention of injury, it's one of the darker portrayals of the two less sweet more narcissistic and controlling

Summary : If you were the Empress of Rome you were at best the most beautiful thing you could look at. For the people you were beautiful, for the rich you were a short thought and for the two emperors you were property that had to be impregnated and had little to say. But how long can a golden cage last before you break out to escape?

info: thank you dear for the request, sorry that you had to wait a bit i had university to do. Nevertheless I wish you a lot of fun :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A marriage should always be something beautiful, something exciting, something splendid, something that you remember for the rest of your life, at least that's how it seemed to be for everyone, except for Geta and Caracalla when they married the 'Flower of the West' to benefit politically.

Both parties profited from it with trade, money and slaves it was as simple as that and she had to realize how divine her two new husbands were...it was above all the disgrace of the gods that came over her and love seemed to slowly close around her like a cage with no prospect of salvation.

It had started well, Geta had sent her many letters, his words had flattered her and the coins that came with them showed portraits of two young men who both had a certain charm.

Her mosaic which had been sent back with a few letters was also warmly received, ,,You're here at last, look brother the prettiest woman in all the provinces is finally here with us” Geta greeted her, his fingers warm and careful as he took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

It was a sign of respect, something that would be appreciated once they were married, his looks flattered her, he truly had something divine about him and she found herself laughing more often than she thought she would, ,,Your ideas and views are truly inspiring” she had replied as they had taken a short walk through the palace together.

Each of the two wanted to spend some time with her...until the moment they arrived at Caracalla.

She felt Geta's hand tighten around hers, painfully tight as the younger man came over to them, ,,My pretty flower, if you please,” he chuckled, pulling her hand from his brother whose look seemed almost warning.

A first sign of what was happening between the two, what it was that had befallen eid and what “divinity” lay behind them. As she realized after only a few weeks, none at all.

Geta, a self-proclaimed god whose words were like liquid lies, seemed to influence her every move, from her clothes to her hair, what she ate and what she didn't. In his kisses, there was no love, only mockery.

There was no love in his kisses but cobwebs that wrapped around her more and more, ,,Alone in Rome, a world power, my love, you know I could never forgive myself for losing you” he reminded her almost daily why she stayed in the palace.

When she did go out she saw what she was supposed to see, people starving, protesting, murdering and the Colosseum only seemed to amplify all of it This is no place for children she thought fearfully and put her hand on her stomach, she had shared the bed with Geta as often as with his brother.

A bed full of blood and tears and yet she hadn't gotten pregnant, not yet, but how kind could gods be, especially to her.

What Geta had in being a god, his brother had in madness, Caracalla could be the sweetest and most caring man you knew one moment only to cut her with a knife the next, thinking they were at war and he had to kill her and laughing when he saw the blood dripping on the floor.

A maniac whose bites covered her body more than kisses, ,,I need you, you know that, don't you? This madness I don't know what I'd do without you...maybe burn down the world” he always told her when they were in a quiet moment, when he calmed down and she hoped for something better.

But what Geta had in lies, Caracalla had in manipulation and two golden gods moving around her was a hopeless future...a future she knew she only had one way out of, especially when she didn't bleed for the first time and she vomited.

It was the dark eyes of the folk hero who had often watched the empress, seeing the stains and marks under her make-up, hearing the screams and weeping whenever he had an audience with one of the servants and never seeing her wife in such a friendly way.

Acacius and Lucila had already made plans and the Empress would play a role. ,,If the Empress wishes, I will accompany her back, it is not always safe,” he placed himself between her and the Emperor's brothers, who appreciated Acacius.

She cautiously felt the hand on her back as he led her away from her husbands, her breathing unsteady, the fear of finding out she was pregnant ever-present, ,,Why? Why are you doing this?” she asked cautiously as they sat together in a carriage and he sat opposite her.

His warm eyes looked at her with almost fatherly reassurance and his hand pointed to her belly, ,,Rome has been close to death since it was built, the battles are too bloody and peace must come.

Two dead emperors without heirs would be the beginning” he said slowly and the fear that rose in her that they wanted to kill her disappeared immediately when the carriage suddenly took a different direction than the palace.

,,You will be taken care of, a small hut you will stay in until I come for you and the two have fallen" a short explanation, short words and a plan that brought tears to her eyes. The cage seemed open for the first time.

A cage that opened and led to freedom in the countryside, Acacius hadn't lied, it was a small hut with a servant to help her with the work and the sheep, with a small field for self-sufficiency and supplies that would last for some time.

It was a place that was like the other side of a coin, quiet, peaceful, friendly and safe for her children children who were born a few months later in the spring of the new year and twins a boy and a girl saw the light of day.

A light of the world that did not deny them their origins the girl looked like her older father except for her eyes, she was eager to explore and kept her mother on her toes.

The boy, on the other hand, was the image of his younger father except for his hair, always laughing and chasing after his twin until he played with the little figures.

They were children from her time in Rome, children who had reached the age of two and she still loved them, they were her ,,My two beautiful suns" she called them while she held them and listened to her servant who was more friend than servant at the time.

A time that was pervaded by peace that she did not think that the shadow of the past would once again settle over her, a shadow that came in the form of a carriage.

,,My lady, a troop with the military seal is approaching” she heard the voice of her servant who wanted to close the door but was interrupted. It had been two years of harsh fears and discomfort and peace had finally come to an end, Acacius had won.

A victory she didn't know how false it could be, a victory that turned out to be a sword that stabbed her friend and she didn't even realize it when she was on her way back to town.

The city that held so much sorrow seemed quiet, few people on the street, new buildings and she spotted scattered statues for her Time has changed so many things it went through her mind and the two small children each sat next to her holding her hand.

They would be looked upon as a prince and princess, would be a fresh inspiration and she would finally have peace under Lucilla...or so she thought.

A thought that was miserably shattered when, upon entering the throne room, she looked into two faces that almost made her cry out as she realized like a blow that all those who had helped her were dead, that Acacius had given his life again for a dream of Rome that would never exist and that Lucilla, the princess she loved so much, was gone.

,,Information is more promising than letters and empty words and you're finally back” Geta said his eyes kind but his voice was laced with anger as he came up to her and Caracalla looked tearful ,,You left me alone" he said and she saw the dagger flash in one hand.

You can't escape misfortune, not when your human gods own you or love you, her children still whimpered nervously behind her as they sensed their mother's fear, a fear the emperors treated with disdain.

Geta's hand sought hers, ,,We would have given you heirs, as many as it would have taken, but instead you are raising the children of a what, a merchant? Give them to him” Geta demanded and his hand closed around her arm and Caracalla realized what he should do with the dagger and his smile widened.

Her heart was beating so loudly that she could hear it in her ears, memories of former love were long gone and all she saw were the two monsters she would never forget, monsters who did not recognize their own children and she cried out, ,,They are your children!” as Caracalla raised the dagger and Geta tried to pull her away.

Words that made them both pause, the dagger fell to the ground and the clink gave her goose bumps.

Geta let her go and both men looked at each other uncertainly, she let her twins slowly emerge to see their fathers, ,,They're yours...that's why I left,” she said in defeat and she knelt between her children to look up at the emperors with both of them.

Geta and Caracalla both looked at the toddlers in disbelief but the resemblance was unmistakable before Caracalla poked his son on the nose who laughed.

,,Such a waste of time we would have celebrated, instead we had to mourn...but never again, finally we are a family” Geta announced and took his daughter in his arms who immediately played with the gold in fascination while her mother still knelt on the floor not knowing what to do.

Monsters could love, they had once loved her themselves, but in the end it was always just her body, her natural existence, having children that they both wanted from her and when she saw that neither of the two husbands even gave her a glance she could hear the slamming of the cage all the more.

They had given the emperors what they wanted, heirs, and now she was nothing more than a soon to be distant memory for her twins because they now had their heirs and her mother had to rest for a long, long time alone, accessible only to the emperors.

It seemed as if the nightmare was only just beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @userchai

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #marcus acacius #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #male x female #reader is female

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tashibum · 1 month ago

Text

To Own, But Not To Share (IV)

Part 1&2 Part 3

Emperor Geta x Female Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Geta admit your true feelings to each other

Chapter Warnings: SMUT, 18+, light choking, dirty talk, spooning sex, cumshot, slave to fiancee?? 4.1k words. Read on AO3

The L Word

His feelings for you were not fitting for an emperor. With his power, he should take things by force and have no mercy.

Yet, he found himself at a temple once a week, on his knees praying. The same god that gave him you, he prayed to Cupid that his arrow would strike your heart as well. Geta gave offerings of cows and sheep to please him. Anything the god wanted, he would supply him with.

Geta could just claim you as his. No one could say no to him, you would have no choice. You could be ordered to say the words “I love you” back to him when he said them. You could fake your happiness to him and the Roman people.

But Geta wanted the true feeling. Such a shame it’s the one thing he could not buy or force.

He granted you your own chambers within the palace. Privacy was something you had never had before. Your family home was small, and then becoming a slave meant you had even less. In your chambers you could shut the door and no one would disturb you. Geta made sure to let everyone know that he was the only person who could open the door without knocking.

In your room, Geta sent all your clothes and jewellery to be placed in your wardrobe and dressing table. All of these possessions were what he had given you, and you were aware he could take it all away from you if you displeased him. Slaves were not meant to own anything. They were meant to be owned.

Your prized possession was one of Geta’s robes. He had left it behind one night and instead of informing a maid, you hid it. When you slept alone, you would take it out from within your dresses and hold it as you slept. You told yourself not to develop feelings for him, you were simply his favourite at that given time. You were sure once more time passed, he would grow bored of you and want someone younger, skinnier and sexier.

When the emperors met with the senates, you spent your time replenishing Geta and Caracalla’s goblets with wine. Geta had made it clear that you would not be leaning your body over any of the senates, there were other slaves that could do that.

“Is she a woman or a witch?” Caracalla asked his brother from beside him, looking over at you at the edge of the room. Dundus sat on his shoulder and ate the occasional grape he held up for him.

Geta gave a confused look. “A woman. What would make you think she has sorcery?”

“She has bewitched you. She is a slave, yet you give her unfair privileges. Jewels that are ours, you give to her.”

Geta was pleased his brother got straight to the point. His issue with you was that you were being given things Caracalla thought to be his.

“Her role as a slave has changed,” Geta put bluntly. He had not informed you of any change, yet knew you must have known something was going on.

“To what? Chief of staff?” His brother huffed mockingly.

“She…….”, Geta paused, thinking of how to word his strong emotions.

“You like her, don’t you? More than you should.” Caracalla had stuck in the knife; now he was going to twist it. “You are her owner. You literally bought her, brother. She sees you as nothing more than that.”

Geta shook his head. While he did not know if your feelings matched his in intensity, he knew, at the very least, you liked him.

“You are an emperor. Weakness like this should have you de-throned,” provoked Caracalla.

“I will court her,” defended Geta, unsure of himself.

“Oh, she will become an Empress of Rome? That really is a promotion! Need I remind you that emperors do not marry plebeians. She is below you. And her cunt isn’t that impressive,” Caracalla remarked from the time he fucked you.

Geta’s hand immediately rose and slapped his brother hard across the face, causing Dundas to hide behind Caracalla’s head.

The room went silent, all eyes now facing the twin emperors. Geta stood up and walked out of the room, his footsteps the only sound anyone could hear. You wanted to follow him to make sure he was okay, but knew better of it. It would be above your station.

Caracalla looked at you from across the room and patted the now vacant space next to him. You could not defy him, so went over, still holding a jug of wine to show him you would not stay with him for long.

“You’ve been promoted,” he declared.

“To what?” You timidly asked, not knowing if the smaller brother was being serious or not.

“Geta’s personal sex aid.”

And with that, you knew he was not serious.

“I do not see the appeal,” he tried to spite. He was hurt because you rejected him and favoured his brother. He would have been happy to share you if you wanted, but that first day put a sour taste in his mouth. The way you moaned for his brother, but was so hesitant and frigid for him.

You did not care though, you did not see any appeal in him either.

“I’ve felt your hole - I’ve felt better. Unless I have not felt the hole he favours.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, as though he wanted something he had been missing out on. The raspiness of his voice added to his perverted suggestion.

The thought made you tense up. Geta had done nothing to your other hole. The closest he had ever gotten to it was when he had been licking you, and his mouth went too low by mistake.

You stared at the door, trying to avoid looking the emperor in the eye after making such a remark, hoping that Geta would come in and rescue you from further embarrassment.

“I’ve been told I have more girth than him,” he bragged.

Please Geta. Please. You silently begged, not even knowing if he had left the building not to return. You did not want to speak to Caracalla about his cock in his attempt to seduce you.

“At the right angle, it can make women gush their sweet juices.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up. A spontaneous death seemed sweeter than hearing Caracalla speak of such things.

Then, finally, Geta returned to the room after cooling down, but got riled right back up again when he saw you with him.

“You better go,” Caracalla justified, knowing his brother's territorial nature over you.

You walked away from him and Geta caught your arm as you passed him. He tugged you out of the room with him again and lead you into an empty corridor.

“What did he say?” He demanded. This close to his face, you could see his cheeks redden. He was terrified that his brother had said something to you about his feelings for you. He knew his brother would love to embarrass him and tell you that he loved you.

“Nothing,” you dismissed.

"Tell me!” He challenged, rage overtaking him again.

"He told me I was your sex toy. Then told me the size of his disgusting length,” you explained.

Geta’s demeanour cooled instantly. “I was worried he had filled your head with lies.”

You took ahold of his jaw and leant up to give him a gentle, sweet kiss. You then leant your head on him. As your fingers stroked his cheek, his hand rested on top of yours against his face.

“Of course not. His words mean nothing to me,” you comforted.

Geta pushed you off him to hold your face in his hands. He had never felt like this about someone before. As he stared into your eyes, the feeling in his abdomen returned. It was where Cupid had shot him before. Cupid did not need to use another arrow on him, Geta needed him to change his target to you. Then the thought occurred in his mind that maybe he felt this sensation because Cupid had just shot you, and it was his way of informing Geta. How Geta wished the Gods spoke to him in words and not riddles!

“Give me the jug. You can go back home to the palace to relax,” he requested. The thought suddenly appeared that you were working, and it upset him. Geta was sure of it now, you were going to be future Empress of Rome, and women of such status did not work.

You did not question him on his motives, but just gave him a smile as you headed to the horse and carriage waiting outside.

“Where is she?” Caracalla asked as Geta rejoined him to discuss politics.

“I thought I would drink straight from the jug,” he dismissed, reeling from how Caracalla spoke to his soon-to-be wife.

The following night he told you he had plans with you. You asked for more information, but he smirked, wanting it to be a surprise. Whatever it was, it required maidens fully prepping you for it. You were washed, shaved and had makeup put on. The anticipation made you sick with anxiety.

You were grateful when he finally said you were not leaving the grounds of the palace, not in the mood for social diplomacy. He held your hand has he lead you around the palace and when the doors to the gardens opened, your jaw hit the floor.

Candles lit a path towards the centre of the lawn where more candles were laid out in a heart shape. Inside the heart was a blanket and pillows. You were speechless by his romantic gesture. Geta had ordered complete privacy, so no one saw him in this vulnerable state. Tonight was the night he was going to tell you he loved you, so wanted everything to be perfect. He had to tell you sooner rather than later in fear his brother would beat him to it.

He held your hand as you lowered yourself onto the blanket. You sat crosslegged until Geta pulled you to lay on your back next to him. You rested your heads on the pillows and stared up into the night sky. With it being late at night, you held onto his arm as a source of warmth.

“The Gods have been so gracious to me,” Geta reflected. You could not share his optimism. A life enslaved was not something you were thankful for. You guessed you could be thankful to Fortuna for being bought by Geta and not someone else who would have abused you.

“You have a blessed life, Emperor,” you agreed.

Geta sat up and turned to you. “More than that. Venus and Cupid work in tandem up there,” he explained and pointed to the sky. “I never thought love to be true, until I met you.”

Your eyes went wide with the meaning of his words. He was thankful to the love gods for you. It made your eyes well up with tears. Was this an admission of love?

“I accepted my fate that I would be married to a princess from another land, all to strengthen Rome’s alliances. After all, marriage and love are not connected. However, spending time with you, it has made me desire both,” he cooed.

“I’m sure your future bride will be very grateful,” you encouraged. He wanted a wife, and you knew it could never be you. He was destined to marry a princess or a duchess. Definitely not a woman who fell into the slave trade as a teenager. You saw a different side to the emperor than everyone else. While others saw him as selfish and cruel, you only saw gentle softness. His words were so delicate that it was hard to keep your emotional distance. Everything about him was magnetic to you, but you tried to not be sucked in. It would hurt to much when he inevitably moved on.

You didn’t understand him, so he said it nice and simple for you, “I love you.” He looked like he was about to cry.

Three words, just three words, but they were huge. Bigger than you could properly comprehend. If he loved you, it would mean everything in your life would change again. You would go from being a nobody, to being respected and feared by the empire.

This meant you could stop your refrain. You could put down your walls and accept the feelings you repressed.

It had been silent for a few moments, and Geta got nervous that you would reject him. But you needed time to collate your words.

“I feel myself……..falling for you more everyday.”

It wasn’t those magical three words that Geta dreamt of you saying, but it was confirmation that it would come.

“Well, when you feel it, don’t hesitate to tell me,” he urged, and laid back down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you against him.

“I’m sorry we met in such circumstances,” he whispered, oozing genuine sorrow. “You never deserved to be enslaved, by anyone.”

“I’m one of the lucky ones, but thousands of people out there still suffer. You must know what your subjects live through,” you commiserated. You thought back on all the conversations you’d had with the emperor, and couldn’t think of a discussion on Roman life. You knew everyone in Rome hated the Emperors, you’d hear your owners talk about it. They had little food, which meant you had even less.

“Of course there are people envious of the power and belongings I have,” he dismissed. You couldn’t tell if he was avoiding your criticism or genuinely did not know how tough life was for a Roman.

“If you want the public’s perception of you to be positive, maybe you could hand out food. Or end the public executions,” you suggested warily. No one was allowed to critique the emperors, it could end in your own public execution.

“Not even my wife yet and you’re bossing me around,” he joked, completely dismissing your serious proposal.

You didn’t know why you even bothered - even if you convinced him, Caracalla would never budge. So, you tried to push away the thoughts of how much everyone hated the man you desired.

“I would not be a virgin bride,” you argued.

“You will be a born again virgin on our wedding night,” he said, as though he had already thought over every detail of your wedding.

“Shall we abstain until then?” You questioned suggestively.

“Absolutely not. The gods do not wish that from us,” responded Geta.

You moved even closer to him in his arms. He was not hard under his toga, it helped you believe that he wanted you for you, and not just your body. He was content laying out here stargazing with you, he did not need to have sex with you to enjoy your company.

He walked you back inside with his arm wrapped around your hips.

“Do you want to stay in my chambers tonight, or yours?” He asked.

“Mine,” you answered, needing time alone to process everything that happened in the gardens.

“As you wish,” he replied and walked you to your door. Once at the doorframe, he took your hand in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. This gesture was what his subjects did to the emperors, never the other way around

“I will see you at breakfast, my amor,” he gushed before walking to his own guarded chambers.

You walked into your room and shut the door. After a second, you picked up one of your feather filled pillows and squealed into it as you jumped up and down with glee.

He loves me!

The Emperor of the empire loved you and wanted you to be his wife. It was anything beyond your wildest dreams. You thought of your family, how you became a slave to give them money, and now you would marry the richest man in the world. You wished you could tell them, but you didn’t even know if they were still alive. It had been years without contact.

You stripped down for bed, and decided tonight you would wear his robe. You laid on your mattress and let your hands caress the fine fabric of the robe as it covered you. Geta was the only thing on your mind. You pictured what your life could look like with him. He would take you to all his official meetings, you would meet all his generals and senators. You would be protected by the praetorian guards. You would give him heirs.

You held your lower stomach as you imagined cute little boys running around, calling you mama with their big, brown eyes looking up at you. They would have matching togas and armour with their father. You tried to picture Caracalla with his nephews, knowing his childlike nature would mesh well with theirs.

The image of your future family was so vivid in your mind, it was as though the gods gave you a vision.

The intense vision made you start to cry. You suddenly felt very empty. You wanted Geta to get you pregnant so you wouldn’t feel empty anymore.

You got up from bed and splashed your face with water the maids had left for you. You knew you were being ridiculous. He had only admitted his love for you an hour ago and you were already losing your sanity with daydreams of children that did not exist.

You took a cloth and began to wipe off the streaky makeup from your face. Geta was so soft, you could picture him doing this for you, gently rubbing the fabric over your face until you were clean. Everyone else could have their opinion of him, but you knew his heart. You knew he had a need to be adored and cared for, but he was so afraid of losing the throne, he only showed maniacal ruthlessness.

You knew that he made your heart beat go fast, and he filled your days with happiness. You knew that no one else could ever sweep you off your feet like he did, and there would be no one else for you except him.

Did you love him?

I think I love him.

You had the urge to run and tell him. He had to be told immediately. You cursed yourself for not saying it back to him during your date, but you didn’t want to look desperate. Plus, you weren’t sure. But now you one hundred percent knew.

You knew better than running in the corridors of the palace; you knew the guards would likely think you were going to ambush the emperors. Your bare feet slapped on the stone floors as you hurried your way past sculptures and paintings of past emperors and the gods. You finally reached the guards protecting Rome’s rulers, and were so eager to speak that you spoke far too fast and unclear for them to understand you.

“The emperors are not to be disturbed,” you were told, completely dismissed.

“Please, just ask Emperor Geta if I can enter his chambers. Tell him it’s an emergency. He’ll know it’s me,” you requested.

He huffed and trotted along to his leader, leaving you with several guards staring at you wearing a just robe that was clearly not yours.

When he came back, he didn’t even bother to speak to you, just moved to the side of the corridor to let you pass. When you reached his chambers, the door was already open and Geta was out of bed, pacing around the room in a robe. His hand was up to his mouth, biting his skin and nails in anxiety. He turned to see you when he heard you shut the door behind yourself. His worry for you turned into confusion when he saw his robe gracing your body.

“What-?” He asked, wanting to know how you got his clothes, but you cut him off.

“I love you,” you blurted.

His concerned face turned stunned, he did not believe his ears.

“What was that?” He urged.

You closed the distance between him so you could look into his big, brown, worried eyes as you said it again. “I love you.”

His breath stuttered in shock and he picked you up as though you weighed nothing. His hands carried you under your thighs and you wrapped your legs and arms around him like a koala. He pressed his plush lips against yours and kissed you, never wanting it to end. No one ever told him they loved him. Even as a youth, after his mother passed away, his father offered nothing but brutality. He never had any familial or romantic love, and now he had it, he would never let you leave him.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

You found it cute the way he wanted you to repeat those three words.

You moved your hands to hold his face, letting his fresh stubble scratch your fingertips. “I love you.”

“Again,” he whispered.

“I love you, Geta,” you said, staring into his eyes. Your fingers pushed back his wavy hair, so smooth without the sharp, pointy laurels in it.

He carried you to the bed and unceremoniously dropped you onto it. Your robe was loose and showed off your naked body. You thought perhaps Geta would take this moment to be intimate with you, but he took off his robe and simply laid against you.

“I want to wake up with my wife-to-be in my arms. Wedding preparations will begin in the morning,” he claimed.

You were a tad disappointed that Geta fell asleep without having sex with you, but took solace that you had the rest of your lives with each other, so had plenty of time to make up for it.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you woke up to Geta’s hand on your hip. You laid on your side with your back to him and assumed he was asleep, until you felt him sit up. He moved the robe you wore so your bottom was completely revealed to him.

You turned your head to face him and as you did, his fingers slid in between your folds.

“What filled your dreams, love? So wet already. I could slide my cock in here without needing to do anything first,” he teased.

He pushed his middle finger inside you and you nodded to him before letting your head turn back around to look at the wall. Having one of his fingers inside you felt better than one of your own. There was just something about it. Then you felt him add another finger, making you stretch to fit around him.

When he pulled his fingers out, he reached around to put them in your mouth. You eagerly licked and sucked your own juices off his hand. In doing so, you took his fingers as far as you could into your mouth, to tease what you could do if he so wished.

His hand went to his cock and the other held your hip again. He shuffled closer to you so your ass touched his hips and he slapped his hefty cock against your wet sex a couple of time before pushing the blunt head inside you. You bit your lip against your pillow as your body easily accommodated him

“The way you take me, it’s unlike anything else,” he purred from behind you.

Like this, he could push his entire length inside you and your body had no choice but to take it.

“This is where you belong,” you moaned, feeling blissed out.

One of his hands snaked under your neck and went to hold your breast. He alternated between squeezing and fondling to pinching your nipple - not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to show his want. Your hand reached behind you to feel his balls. They were sticky from where they kept slapping against your wetness.

“They’re so full,” you commented, causing him to grunt. “You have to empty them for me, okay love?”

Geta nodded against your hair, then moved his hand to the front of your neck to lightly choke you. You loved it - loved how the pressure on your throat and the pressure on your cunt was caused by him.

“I’m your girl. Tell me I’m yours,” you begged, wanting him to claim you.

Geta was working so hard on fucking you, only a weak “mine” left his lips from behind his head. To you, that wasn’t good enough.

“Say you own me,” you requested, but a mere grunt came out of his mouth. He was the emperor of Rome, he was as powerful as the gods, you had seen him yell plenty of times before, yet he struggled to vocalise his power in this moment.

“Say you own me!” You yelled, probably loud enough for the guards and Caracalla down the hall to hear.

“I own you. Pussy’s mine,” he rasped out.

He took both of his hands and used them to move your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. Soon, he pulled out of you and let his seed land on your ass cheeks. When the warmth hitting your body stopped, you turned over to lay on your back, not caring that his spend was now being rubbed into his robe and bed sheets.

“Did you…….peak?” Asked Geta, still trying to get his breath back.

You shook your head. It didn’t matter to you. You had made him cum, and pleasuring the emperor would forever be your priority.

“Next time, you tell me,” he objected and moved his way down the bed. You didn’t understand what he was doing, until he spread your legs. He didn’t give you any explanation or warning, he just went straight in and lapped at your folds. His two fingers entered you again, fucking you just how he knew you liked. Emperor Geta may have been a selfish leader, but he was not a selfish lover. He always wanted you to take pleasure from him, and tell him how much you enjoyed it.

His mouth concentrated on your clit as his fingers worked their magic inside you. As you reached your orgasm, you felt bad for forcing him to talk earlier. You could not judge him for not being able to speak when you could only muster out a quiet “cumming” as you exploded on his fingers.

“No one in Rome will know how sweet their Empress tastes,” he said from between your legs, licking clean your inner thighs before sucking his fingers. You smiled up at him to show you appreciated the compliment.

“There’s so much to get done,” he started. He stood up from the bed and put on a robe to wear before the maidens would come in to dress him. He sat next to you at the side of the bed and held your hand as he listed everything he wanted.

“I want new armour made for the day. You’ll need to be fitted for your dress. Flower arrangements will need to be made. I want games in the colosseum to celebrate. I want a feast. I want as many people to be there as possible.”

Geta went on and on about how he wanted the marriage ceremony and celebrations afterwards to be perfect. The only thing you wanted was for your family to be there, but knew it would be very unlikely.

@your-nightmaredoll @1950schick @justasmallbean

#gladiator #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #emperor geta fanfic #me

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thevoicefromanotherworld · 2 months ago

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"SWEETER THAN WE IMAGINED"

Here it is, the story where you're the concubine of this two. (I need them so bad omfg I need to be sedated ngl)

I hope you like it!

@sweeteststing

@earfq0ake

The emperors' hands quickly went to the straps of your dress to remove it, while you squirmed between them due to anticipation.

Geta's gaze fell on your parted lips, while Caracalla delighted in the expressions on your face as they left you naked in front of them.

Their gazes wandered over your entire body until they reached your face again.

Geta held your chin between his index finger and thumb, making you look directly at him. He sketched an amused smile as he placed his golden crown on your head.

"By all the gods, you are so beautiful, don't you think, brother?" he asked, glancing sideways at Caracalla, who nodded.

"The most beautiful woman in Rome," he seconded, "and she is all ours.

"His." The possessive made you let out a low gasp. Without warning, Geta placed his lips on yours, Caracalla watched as his brother brushed your mouth, first teasing you slowly and then tugging at your bottom lip between his teeth.

He slowly lowered you onto the bed, while he continued to kiss you. You felt Caracalla run his fingers along the curve of your chest, then down to the place where you needed him most.

You needed them both, at the same time. You wanted them to destroy you, to make you remember who you belonged to.

Geta's lips left your mouth and went down to the place where his brother had rested his hands. You felt the cold of Caracalla's rings holding your legs, making you keep them open for him.

Geta's gaze fixed on your center for a moment before looking up at his brother, and back to you.

-You're soaked, darling, and we haven't even touched you - he laughed, sliding his rings down the inside of your thighs, making you sigh - look at you, so ready for us - he whispered, resting his chin against your lower belly while he watched you closely - Are you going to be a good girl for us?

-Yes - you sighed - I'll be a good girl, please… - you begged, the pressure in your center was starting to be painful -

-That's what I wanted to hear - he smiled, gesturing to his brother - hold her, don't let her move -

And so he did. Caracalla held you by the legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. You couldn't help but scream when you felt Geta hook your clit between his teeth and pull on it, making you see stars due to the pleasure you were feeling.

Caracalla's grip remained firm, moving between your thighs and hips, his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck and the curve of your shoulder, making you rest your head against his shoulder.

Your eyes connected intensely for a moment. He leaned in to kiss you. His lips landed on yours more gently than his brother, but no less pleasurable.

Anyone who had walked in there at that very moment would have seen you kissing Caracalla while Geta ate your pussy. Just thinking about it made your mind go blank, unable to form a coherent thought.

The emperor's crown slipped slightly off your forehead, but Caracalla put it back in place, giving you a loving kiss on the forehead.

-This is staying put - he whispered smiling at you, you returned the gesture delicately-

A broken moan came from between your lips when you felt yourself slowly rushing towards your orgasm. You tried to move your hips against Geta's mouth, but his brother didn't let you, placing his hands on your legs again.

-I'm sorry, darling - Caracalla whispered with a knowing smile - orders are orders

-I can't hold out any longer… - you warned, throwing your head back - I'm going to…

Without giving yourself time to add anything else, you emptied yourself against Geta's face, who rose from between your legs with a triumphant smile on his face, as if he were the winner of a great loot.

He cleaned the corners of his lips with his tongue under your watchful gaze, making you gasp again. Caracalla undid his grip on your hips, letting you fall onto the bed, exhausted and satisfied like never before.

-You have to put your mouth on her, brother – Geta said, gesturing towards you – she tastes sweeter than we imagined

-Is that true? – he asked, looking at you with a smile on his face as he exchanged positions with his brother – it doesn't matter, I'll check it out for myself

#gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #caracalla x reader #geta x reader

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innerfare · 5 months ago

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Shanks Relationship Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that.

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him.

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.”

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks.

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him.

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities.

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories.

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor.

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon.

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though.

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels.

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker.

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉).

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #benn beckman #red hair pirates #one piece fluff

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abbyfmc · 5 months ago

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Yandere Story Idea #16:

Yandere Yandere (Fatherly) Emperor and Empress (Maternal) x Daughter! Reader:

Think about it.

I imagine that after a long line of princes, the yandere empress finally has a princess, and both parents are delighted with her, since she was the first daughter after many years of trying. Your father, the emperor, agrees that you be raised under the care of the empress (your mother).

From the moment you were born, you were never left alone for a single minute. When the Empress wasn't with you, the Emperor himself was. Your mother always made you follow her everywhere she went, as well as sharing her tastes and hobbies, since having only had princes prevented her from doing that. You had a close mother-daughter relationship, and with your father it was something more or less similar.

As you grow up, your parents become more overprotective of you, so much so that they even limit your contact with your older brothers, the princes. Not only would they give you nice gifts, but the best teachers, doctors and servants would be at your disposal (even better than those of your older brothers), although your brothers would probably be jealous of you.

They wouldn't let you walk alone for even a second.

If your father has a harem of consorts and concubines (like other emperors), then the empress will be more paranoid about you, since even though princesses do not inherit the throne, she knows that her enemies can harm you.

Once, when you were five years old, a maid broke a porcelain doll that your father had given you after returning from one of his trips. Unfortunately for that maid, the emperor was returning with you just when the doll broke, so he saw it and got SO angry that he asked his butler to take you out to the garden for a walk, so that you wouldn't see your father the emperor whip the poor maid to death. All this because he considered that maid to be reckless in daring to do that to your things, even if it had been an accident.

Even if more princesses were born, you were the object of your parents' overprotection and adoration.

Even your older brothers didn't dare to do anything bad to you. Once a new maid spoke ill of you (even though you hadn't done anything), and the empress herself slapped her in the face.

They hired servants who document your EVERY move.

The Emperor adores you so much that he will delay any kind of engagement or marriage alliance. He will reject any proposal, and silence anyone who mentions the subject. He does not want you away from him.

If it were up to them, you would stay locked in your room all the time so that nothing would hurt you, and they would tell you that they do everything for your own good.

You were punished by being locked up for an indefinite period of time, followed by the classic punishment of writing the same sentence repeatedly for a long time.

No trying to escape from the palace. The emperor would have experienced guards and servants around you to prevent that.

And if you do get married, then your parents will make sure that you have no choice but to live near the palace, no matter what.

They would be capable of killing if something happens to you.

If you fall ill, they will make sure you rest and eat well, even if it is against your will. If you were to die, they would both go mad with grief, especially the empress.

If you were to die, they would use your chambers as a sanctuary to you, where they would go to pray for you, and in the process force EVERYONE to mourn you.

Your emperor father would not let you have any contact with his family, as there is a power struggle going on where even his own brothers, cousins and uncles could be his enemies and would do ANYTHING to get the throne; even if that includes kidnapping or killing you just because you are the emperor's daughter. Your mother would know this, and every time her brothers-in-law come, she will make you stay with her in the central palace.

With the Empress's family it's a different story, since there are no problems of inheritance of the throne, things are easier unless there is someone who tries to hurt you or pressure you like they do with your mother.

-The End.

What do you think?

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ashprince-of-bel-air · 2 months ago

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As per a suggestion, a short fic of being Caracalla's favourite concubine.

Life in the royal palace was comfortable, as a concubine you were afforded luxuries that you would never have dreamed of before. You had been plucked from poverty, yours was a poor life of struggle. Your father was all too eager to sell you off to the royal house, the price given for you would more than pay off the family debts and he did not care where you went.

It was an adjustment at first for you, you had never known a man before you were placed in the service of the Emperors, your virginity was eagerly plucked by them, relishing in the fact you were a delicate flower ready to be plucked, savoured and devoured.

Geta was rough with you, the times you had been with him in the beginning were hard, the other girls understood and looked after you, knowing all to well the malice in his touch. As the time drew on Geta asked for you less, he enjoyed ruining the new and untouched girls, it started to become less fun for him when you knew what to expect.

As of late it was Caracalla who called for you, by name he called for you now, wanting only your company and your body to enjoy. Each time he called you were met with extravagance, wine and food met you in his chambers, you both indulged eagerly before you pleasured him. This time he called you was no different, you entered the royal room that you had now become very well acquainted with; your eyes falling upon the emperor perched upon his bed, his eyes drinking you in once again.

Caracalla met you eagerly, taking your hand in his own, kissing up the length of your arm, wanting to devour as much of your body as he could. It made you giggle to feel his lips travel up your arm, a giggle that was very well received by the Emperor, it pleased him to know that only he could elicit such noises from you.

Wine was enjoyed as you spoke, he always chose you to join him because you listened, you made him feel heard and understood, it was only you he could be unburdened to, the other girls did not care like you did, at least in his mind.

You enjoyed these encounters with Caracalla, though you were a concubine he made you feel like a goddess when he called for you, supplying you with the finest wine and food when attended to him. Caracalla was also attentive in other ways, you never expected to enjoy your role as a concubine but he made sure to pleasure you as you pleased him.

This time he called you was no different, you drank and listened to his problems, laughing at his jokes and feeding his ego where needed. It wasn't long until he took you to bed, it must have been a bad day for him to bed you so soon, you did not complain though, it was your job to please him.

The feeling of the silk sheets beneath you was something you would never tire of, they made you feel like an empress, even if only for the night. Caracalla's hands roamed your body hungrily, the feeling of his ringed fingers over your skin made you moan softly, encouraging him to grope you more.

It was his lips that you enjoyed more, the open mouthed kisses he left along your body were like heaven to you, the way he adored you with his lips was divine, he only revered you this way, the other girls had never felt this level of reverence from him, it was only reserved for you.

Your body reacted beautifully to his touch, everything Caracalla did to you was like he was made for you, his touch tailored to your body. Once your felt his length press against you it made you moan, desperate to feel him and fill the ache you had for him. It did not take long for Caracalla to press into you, stretching you to fit him, a feeling that you enjoyed every time.

His rhythm was slow at first, enjoying every stroke and savouring the feeling of you around him, it was as if you were made for him. His pace quickened as you moaned beneath him, the beautiful noises you were making for him only spurred him on as he wanted to hear more of your moans. His hands roamed your body as he pounded into you, the cold metal of his ringed hands was like heaven, feeling then travel down your body to your core, aching for release.

Caracalla's hand found it's way down your body, his fingers hungrily rubbing against your clit, though you were only a concubine he wanted to please you as much as you pleased him, he almost craved the feeling of your orgasm, to feel your walls tighten around him was pure ecstasy.

The pleasure started to pool inside of you, his fingers rubbing your clit and hearing his sweet moans in your ear was enough to send you over the edge, arching your back into his body and your walls clenching around him. Caracalla's orgasm was notong after your own, panting through it before collapsing upon you, your bodies both now covered in sweat.

Of all the concubines you were the only one allowed to sleep next to Caracalla. All the other girls he would send away, but not you. You stayed next to him, stroking his hair and holding him. Caracalla never wanted a wife, he had you at his service and would need or crave anything more.

#emperor caracalla fic #gladiator caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #caracalla

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radiance1 · 1 year ago

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Nasty Burger explosion happens, leaving Danny homeless and friendless, he gets adopted by Vlad but Vlad, in all of his ambition to get Danny as his son and even telling said boy such thing multiple times.

Genuinely doesn't know what to do.

He never, well, thought this far, and certainly never in the circumstances that made this possible.

He tries a few parenting techniques (that he's read from multiple books to get the perfect child) and nothing sticks both because of Danny's stubbornness and pettiness.

So, Vlad tries from a... different angle.

He doesn't need a perfect son, he realized, he just wanted one, and now that he's gotten one, he realizes that Danny would be the one to succeed Vladco in the off-chance (which is low as hell already) that Vlad someone gets taken out of commission.

So what does he do?

He shows Danny how fun the business world can be when you're on top of it. One of the giants, an Emperor among kings.

Slowly sinking your fangs into an enemy, backing them into a corner bit by bit, until before they realized it, they can do nothing but be a defenseless little grub. Watching them crumble to bits in their own panic, and by their own hand making their situation worse and worse until, with one final blow, nothing is left of them.

Either by their own hand, or yours.

Danny took to it like a fish to water and, dare Vlad say, they even drew closer throughout it. Not quite father and son, yet not enemies either.

He thinks the term would be... frenemies?

Yes, on the best of days allies and on every other day frenemies.

===

Danny doesn't... hate, Vlad. Yet he doesn't love him either, he thinks he likes Vlad at the very least. When the man backed off from trying to get him to be his son and replace his father.

Which was still a dick move considering his father had just died, but he's since managed to get over it. (The replacing his dad move, not his dad's death.)

Then Vlad started treating his less as a son and more of a... roommate, that he teaches business too. He will admit, he liked the change, gave him more room to grieve the loss of his family, and then, a while after that, Vlad showed him what made the business world... 'fun.'

And he was right, it is fun.

It was a great distraction from the pain of losing his family, and the fear that he would become like his dark future that he managed to avoid. He's not destroying the world, he's just destroying rival companies.

Way better in his opinion.

Of course, there are other 'Emperor among kings' out there, would be weird if there weren't honestly. To name a few, being Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne.

In other words, a guy who hates an overpowered alien superhero and a himbo playboy.

Honestly, he doesn't really care about Lex Luthor, he's more of Vlad's chess mate rather than his. Who he does care for, however, is on Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Two years older than him, that is true, yet a fun chess mate all the same. Does he care for the boy's father and siblings? No, not really, not at all actually.

He's tried to corner the boy before (Most of which he planned out with his own chess set that Vlad got him, Vlad has one as well in fact), mostly on a whim really. To test the waters, so to speak. But, Timothy Drake succeeded his expectations and, well, more.

He tries more than once, gaining an inch, Timothy finds a way to gain two more. Corner him, and Drake finds a way out and even reserving the tides.

He's never able to completely corner Timothy Drake-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne has never been able to completely corner him, which is honestly what makes this so fun.

Vlad was right, the business world can be fun.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Honestly I don't know about this one really #But I think I like the relationship I gave Danny and Vlad here #Not quite friends #Not quite enemies #Certainly not father and son #It just is I guess

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trappolia · 10 months ago

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── PUT ALL YOUR FAULTS TO BED, YOU CAN BE KING AGAIN

leona kingscholar. the musings of the second prince, regarding the crown and his consort.

Some days, Leona thinks about what the word king means to him and how it links back to you.

Contrary to popular belief, he does not so easily forget the whispers of rumours behind his back; though, loathe as he is to admit, Leona knows that some are less rumour and more truth, no matter how spiteful. He is a prince, after all, and not some spoiled rotten child who has had compliments fed to him on a golden spoon.

Leona knows, better than anyone, that you deserve more than him.

He’s well aware of the fact that many perceive him as lazy, irritable and intimidating, and that is only saying the least. The perfect example of a student who has had to repeat a year way too many times, who is probably still in the world’s greatest magical academy because of his royal blood and noble connections.

The second prince is one way to describe him as well. Second to everything his brother does is also a possible description. Second to the throne, to their parents’ love, to the praise and glory befitting of a king; because Leona will never be king. not as long as his brother and his blood live, because Leona has always been the second option.

And so he acts like it. What else can he do? Surely he cannot try to usurp his own brother; Leona may be a better king than Falena, but he is also intelligent enough to understand the consequences of a coup, long-term or otherwise. Not to mention his nephew, who undoubtedly has the capacity to be a real pain in his ass if Leona ever does away with his father.

Now Leona spends most of his time bored and unpleasant to be around, not so unlike the whispers that circulated the halls of Afterglow Savannah's royal palace when his signature spell was discovered. It is when you find him, lazing around in the light of the sun creeping into the greenhouse (one of the only times he has ever felt that he has ever felt that he could escape from the shadows), and, for one reason or another, you decide to stay.

Leona hates it.

He hates the way you shine a light in his life. It’s too bright, too hot, and he can’t get rid of you no matter how hard he tries. And, at some point, he has become too scared to get rid of you. The underlying fear of losing that light, reduced to the shadow of a king and a crown prince that he once was; it kills Leona. It kills him because he was supposed to be a king, grew up wanting to be the perfect one to rule over the kingdom, and kings do not have weaknesses.

But Leona is not a king.

He is the brother of one, the second son of a royal family. With enough skills and intellect to survive in the battlefield that is the royal court of the Afterglow Savannah. He is born to a long line of kings, emperors, leaders; has learned from the stories of the great kings of the past, of which their blood courses through his veins; but he is not a king. Never was, and never will be.

But then again, who is to say that he isn’t a king in another sense?

"The only kingly thing you haven’t done yet is actually opening your eyes, Leona," Ruggie’s damned hyena laugh echoes in his mind, the mischievous smirk on his face while his eyes stay rooted to the pathetic homemade crown on his head.

Leona does not think Ruggie has the right to laugh, when he doesn't even understand.

Because even with his eyes closed, the second prince sees. He sees the way your breaths come and go, the warmth of the sun and the chill of the breeze on your skin, your quickening pulse and heartbeat. He sees it all without ever needing his eyes, and that is the exact reason why he doesn’t want to open them.

Because if he does, he will see you, backlit against the sun and light of the greenhouse you both visit so much, and then he will want more; you by his side in the kingdom of Afterglow Savannah, bathing in the morning light while wrapped in royal robes, the consort's crown on your head, your rightful place on the throne beside his. You cradling his cub in your arms, sweetly whispering to the result of your love, the future ruler and heir to the throne that is rightfully his. Leona knows that there is none other more deserving of a consort's crown than you, and he would kill anyone who tried to take it from you.

(He would kill for you in a heartbeat. No matter what the cost.

One day, Leona thinks, he will not be the only one to fear the extent of what he feels for you.)

But what murder is justified when the crime hasn’t even been committed? When you do not have the consort's crown, because Leona doesn’t even have the king’s.

(Child’s play; reaching for something he will never get. Leona is a master at this game, even when he loses every single time.)

Silly lion, you would chide him with a smile. Not for these foolish fantasies (for Leona would never admit them), but for the most mundane things. Being late to class, forgetting to do homework, getting detention, forgetting to go to that detention. Such simple, pathetic things, and Leona listens because you are his consort, and kings listen to their consorts.

(Pathetic, hopeless little fantasies.)

"Leona?" you call out his name, your voice the melody of his sweetest, softest, weakest dreams.

Leona's eyes flutter open, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinks in the light.

He sees you there, bent over to peer at his sleeping expression. The way your head eclipses the sun makes it seem like you’re wearing a halo (angel’s crown), and if Leona looks closely, he can see his own kisses tangled between your locks and the light.

He closes his eyes before he can meet your gaze, see your lips and everything else he has ever wanted. He will settle for sense and touch, if not for the sake of his sanity, then for you.

"What is it now?" he snarls, feigning annoyance. He hears you laugh, and Leona knows you see right through him.

Just give him some more time, then he will give you a kingdom, the world, and everything else you’ve ever wanted and deserved──

──but for now, this will be all he can offer you.

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slaytheusurper · 6 days ago

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⭑ The Battle of Salamis ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Two)

Masterlist

A/N: Acacius is STRESSIN! Protective daddy Acacius has my heart though- also I know an extra seat doesn't fit between the thrones in the movie but in this fic it does!

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla & Geta x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Inaccurate sharks, argument reader/acacius, crumbling relationships, blood/battle, mentions of whores, depraved fantasies of hot sexy gingers (+18 themes), subtle flirting and touching.

Summary: The twin emperors obsession with you grows and no one will stop them from getting what they want, not even a General.

Word count: 3.1k

Geta and Caracalla were both seated on their luxurious settee, watching as two concubines pulled their garments slowly off each other. Neither emperor could focus or enjoy much of the show however. Their minds were filled with the General's daughter, Geta could only think about how beautiful your curves looked, and your lips, oh how sweet they would taste.

Caracalla imagined your breasts and how he could nip and suck at them while you whined for more. He was hard at the thought, a daydream in his mind riling him up more than the plain looking concubines undressing in front of him. Geta felt only irritation simmer at the sight of the now naked bodies, before he met Acacius’ daughter, this would’ve got him going.

But now, all he could think about was how much prettier you were, more innocent, higher status and liked by the people. The two in front of him were just bodies and nothing more. Geta and Caracalla were so far sunken in their daydreams they didn’t hear the female concubines question. “Your majesty? What would you like us to do?”

Geta snapped back into focus, with one glance at his twin, he could tell Caracalla had the same thing on his mind. “Get out.” The girls looked confused. “Caesar?” Caracalla’s frustration grew. “Get out now!” The whores scrambled their clothes together before hurrying out of the room. “Why are they so- plain, all of a sudden?” Geta said while rubbing his temples.

His brother agreed, then, they shared a look. “How about that other one brother, she looks the most- like her.” Geta grinned, Caracalla ordered one of the Praetorians to bring in the other whore. “We’ll share her. You her mouth, I her cunt.” Caracalla giggled at his brother's words. If they couldn’t have you, they would pretend, for now.

Macrinus didn’t stay too long, and for some reason Lucilla refused to tell you about why he was visiting. Something you did know however was that Macrinus was not the man he made himself out to be. By the time he left, you were tired and spent the evening in your room reading some scrolls about the creation of Rome. And when you were too tired, you closed your eyes, dreaming of them.

The next morning you were eating some bread and fruits with your father and Lucilla. He still hadn’t spoken to you much, only when necessary. Even though you somewhat understood his frustration about the emperors, you didn’t see why he made this about you. “Father?” Acacius hummed in response. “Are you going to speak to me or ignore me the whole of the games?” Lucilla looked at him with worry in her eyes.

Did something happen you did not know of? He sighed and put down the chunk of bread he was chewing on. This time the servants were not around. “I don’t like the way the emperors involve you in their sick games.” You looked at him confused. He shared a look with Lucilla before speaking again. “I want you to be safe, the more you are around the emperors, the less safe you are.” You scoffed at him.

“Oh please father, why would they hurt me? I didn’t do anything wrong and they seem to tolerate me, so I don’t understand why you are this concerned.” Acacius seemed to want to tell you something but he stopped himself. “The emperors are- irrational, and headstrong. If they want something, they will get it.” Lucilla answered for him in a softer voice.

“So?” You shrugged. “They do in fact seem to like you, more than they should.” Your father gruffed out. “How is this a bad thing?” You almost blushed at hearing his words, in the back of your mind you knew the emperors were bad men, with horrible intentions but they looked so good while doing it.

“I realize that you don’t know much yet, about men. And the ways of...marriage.” Lucilla explained, “If they decide that one of them would marry you, then we can’t protect you, unless we hide you but that would be difficult.” Your brows furrowed. “I would like you to stay home today, is the point.” Acacius urged.

“What? No! I want to go! I want to see the battle that is supposed to take place today!” Your father was taken by surprise at your defiance, his little girl that did as he asked with no questions was clearly no longer residing in you. “No. Do not go against me. I am your father and you will do as I say.”

“But-” Lucilla took your hand and took you to the gardens. “Please, let me come with you, I want to go.” Lucilla set you down on one of the stone benches, “Listen to me, it will be alright. I promise, I cannot say more but soon you will see.” You couldn’t believe it, usually your step-mother was a lot more lenient, so why was she so insisting now?

You paced around angrily in the garden while your father and Lucilla left for the games. Mauling over why they were being so difficult, they obviously didn’t want you near the emperors, but what if you wanted to be? And what if they wanted you to? Surely their word goes above the generals?

Macrinus once again met Lucilla and Acacius at the colosseum, his eyes darting around, he noticed that someone was missing. “General, good day to you. Your daughter is not with you today?” Lucilla clasped her husband's hand, his irritation already clear as day. “No, she was quite tired, so we left her to rest at home.” Macrinus hummed in response. “Well, follow me then.” He said, leading Acacius and Lucilla up the stairs.

Reaching the top, the emperors were already standing there. “Your majesties.” General Acacius bowed, Lucilla matching him. Geta and Caracalla both looked past their shoulders and Lucilla could feel Acacius tense up. “Where is she?” Caracalla asked, Dondas nibbling on his hair.

“If you are referring to my daughter, she is at home, resting. Caesar.” He tried his best to sound as respectful as possible but he was fearing the worst. “Why? She should be here. The naval battle we have for today is something she must witness.” Geta too tried to sound kind, but his disappointment was obvious. “She was quite tired from yesterday, your majesty.” Lucilla tried to cut their conversation off but she had a feeling they would not let it go.

“Nonsense, she should be here,” Geta then gestured for Macrinus to come closer, “Fetch her, she wouldn’t want to miss this.” Macrinus nodded before gesturing for some guards to follow him. “I guess we will have to wait a bit longer, General, but no matter, I am sure this mistake, will not happen again.” Geta stated. Acacius did not trust himself to speak, giving the emperor a curt nod instead.

The orange tree smelled fresh and amazing this time of year, and so with a basket in your hand, you picked them. You needed something to do after your ‘disagreement’ with your father. You had, in this time, slightly admitted to yourself that he was right. You understood why he was so protective of you in this dangerous city, but that didn’t change the little crush you had on the emperors.

How could you not? Not only were they handsome but they dressed well and smelled surprisingly nice with all the essential oils they probably used in their baths. But the power and might they showed, now that was attractive. You wanted to know them better, wanted to know what they were like when left alone. Would they still be as vicious and ruthless- or softer and kind?

Being unmarried also meant that you didn’t really know what that entailed, but you wanted to. In the later years while you were blossoming, your father had received some critique for not having married you off yet. However you knew why, he wasn’t around much but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He wanted you safe and at the one place where he could always protect you.

An orange fell out of your hand as you tried to pick two, when you picked it up, you heard raised voices from the courtyard of the estate, which was only one wall away. Your heart rate picked up when the door leading to the garden you were standing in, opened. Four Praetorians came into view, as well as Macrinus. “My Lady, I did not mean to frighten you, the emperors have simply requested your presence at the games. Would you come with us?”

“Of course, let me bring this to one of our servants and I will gladly join you.” You said while referring to the orange filled basket. He nodded and let you walk past him so you could have the oranges sent to the kitchen. You did not expect for the emperors to send guards to get you but that made your improper crush grow. Maybe you wanted them to like you, would that really be so wrong?

When you arrived at the colosseum, there was no crowd. Following Macrinus once more, you soon reached the last step and were met with the emperors. Geta stepped forward, took your hand and kissed the back of it. “My lady, welcome, how good of you to make it.” You blushed at his words, and curtseyed. Caracalla was the one who led you to your seat, which was still placed between the emperor's thrones. Avoiding your father’s stare- you followed Caracalla.

Once you were seated, the speaker was given the signal to begin. “In the name of Poseidon! We celebrate the glory of naval war! Today we relive the battle of Salamis! The Trojans versus the Persians!” You watched as a large ship entered the now water submerged arena, sharks could be seen swimming around and you did not want to imagine what would happen if one of the gladiators fell in the water.

Then another gate opened and a second ship emerged, this ship looked like it belonged to the Trojans while the first one belonged to the Persians. You could hear Caracalla’s feet tap excitedly beside you, while Geta shifted in his seat. The ships had only just started to sail towards each other when flaming arrows were released by the Trojans. Two of the arrows hit the Persians’ ships sail, which quickly caught fire, sending huge clouds of black smoke in the air.

Many Persians already collapsed when hit by arrows, making it seem like the Trojans could easily defeat them. You could see how men fell overboard in the water, seconds later the water would turn red with their blood, attracting the sharks. When the Persian ship seemed to head straight into the Trojan ship, it turned, causing the Trojan ship to lose its entire left side of oars.

You shifted in your seat as the ships seemed to slowly come closer, Geta grinned widely at you however and you courteously returned a smile. “This is war! Real war!” Caracalla yelled excitedly next to you. Your excitement started to fade however, the sail on fire, the Trojans actively losing and the ships slowly coming closer while you were front row made you incredibly nervous.

You decided to stay calm, surely if something happened the Praetorians would step in? But when the Persian ship had turned to fully face the Trojan ship, you couldn’t help but feel panic start to take over. They increased their speed and head-on rammed the Trojan ship, causing it to almost fully split in half. Because of the impact, both ships headed straight to the emperor's box.

Your hands clasped tightly at your toga when the Persians jumped on the Trojan ship, right in front of you. Now your terror was too much to bear- you had to say something. “Your majesty, I don’t think this is safe-” Before you could say anything else an arrow shot what seemed like millimetres past you- right into the side of your seat. Then your eyes met with the man who shot it- Hanno. Hands grabbed your waist, lifting you out of your seat, you could hear Geta scream for Praetorians, your eyes met your fathers as he pulled you away from the box, Lucilla and the two emperor's right behind you.

When you were safely out of reach from the gladiators, you still felt like you couldn’t breathe or move. “Are you alright?” Your father crouched before you, taking your hands in his. You could only nod. “Who shot the arrow! Who?!” Caracalla screamed. “H-hanno- I believe it was Hanno Caesar.” You said. “It was him, I saw it too.” Your father said. “He got shoved, he could have never meant to shoot you dear.” Lucilla then said.

How was it not meant for you? The man looked straight at you before he shot, had he not been pushed- you would be dead. “Maybe- I really do not know.” Geta did not seem pleased with your answer. “I will think about what to do with him, he can not get away with this.” He seethed. It was then you noticed Lucilla’s pleading eyes towards your father.

At this point you had realized something was going on that you did not know about, but if you actually wanted to know what that was- was a whole other question. The emperors must have felt some sort of sympathy as they invited you, your father and Lucilla to wine and food at the palace, which your father reluctantly agreed to. A carriage took the emperors to the palace, while your father, you and Lucilla took your own, following behind them.

Palatine Hill must have been one of the most beautiful buildings in Rome, it screamed power and wealth. The whole time you were led inside, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks to look around from time to time. When you had reached one of the larger entertainment halls, you felt somewhat safe again while sitting next to your father. As time passed, wine flowed and some musicians were summoned to entertain the emperors.

You listened to the beautiful music, occasionally glancing at the emperors on their settee not far away from you. Lucilla was speaking lowly to your father when emperor Geta spoke up. “My Lady, join my side, I would like to speak with you.” That certainly caught your fathers attention, you stood from the settee you had shared with your parents and walked over to the already grinning emperors. Geta patted the spot beside him, so you were between them once again- right where they wanted you.

As you sat down, Geta already leaned a bit towards you while Caracalla shamelessly stared at your covered breasts. You could tell Lucilla tried to distract your father with conversation again but if it was much help, you did not know. “I hope you are not too distraught over what occurred earlier today.” Geta whispered in your ear, his voice so close and low it made an unfamiliar heat pool in your belly.

“No your majesty, your invitation to spend time with you here certainly helped, as did the wine.” Caracalla giggled beside you and Geta smiled. It made your heart beat faster- pleasing them. Caracalla then called Dondas over, or rather the slave that held him, and took Dondas in his lap. Geta noticed how your smile grew bigger at the sight of the cute monkey, Caracalla noticed too. “Would you like to hold him? I know he is already fond of you.” He mused.

“Please, I would love to Caesar.” He liked hearing you say please more than he should and only nudged Dondas a tiny bit towards you before the monkey jumped into your lap. His tiny hands clasping your toga. You couldn’t help the soft laugh escaping you, to which Caracalla saw an opportunity. “Here, you know what he likes? To sit on your shoulder.” The emperor said before letting his hands roam over your upper arm, then innocently placing the monkey on your shoulder, letting his hand slide back down your arm again.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of him touching you, the smallest skin to skin contact made goosebumps ripple over the area he grazed. Dondas sat cluelessly on your shoulder, inspecting your hair. Caracalla got exactly the reaction he wanted, looking at Geta with a mischievous smile which Geta returned. Their obsession only grew as they now got the confirmation they needed- you were entirely oblivious to their ambitions.

You played with Dondas for a while, Geta even handing you some fruit to feed to him, making sure to let his hands linger on yours. On the other settee it was less cheerful, Acacius felt powerless as he watched how his daughter swooned over the emperors he hated so much. This is exactly what he wanted to prevent, he knew he couldn’t do anything if his daughter married one of them, then it would be too late. You would be in too much danger. All attempts Lucilla made to ease his tension were unsuccessful, at some point she had him calmer, and made him focus on a conversation with her.

Everytime one of the emperors ‘innocently’ touched you, it sent sparks through your body, never had you felt this way around men. But they opened a whole new world for you, and you wanted to explore every single inch of it. When you handed Dondas back to Caracalla, Acacius saw a window, an opportunity to leave. “My emperors, we really should be heading back home-”

“Why? Can’t you see we are having a nice conversation General?” The music abruptly stopped at Emperor Geta’s words. You looked at your father with pleading eyes, ‘please don’t upset them’. “My apologies, it is just that Lucilla is feeling a bit dizzy from the wine.” Lucilla looked down at her husband's words- knowing it was a lie. The evening grew darker but you had no intention of leaving as long as the emperors still wanted you here.

“Ah, I understand.” Geta said, his mood change was almost horrifying but at least he seemed composed again. Caracalla grumbled something beside you, but you couldn’t quite make it out. “Praetorians, take them back to their estate.” Geta commanded, while standing up. You stood up as well, your father and Lucilla already heading towards the door. But Caracalla stopped you before you could walk away.

“We had so much fun this evening, didn’t we?” You smiled at his words. “Yes your majesty, at least I did, very much.” The truth was, you hadn’t had so much fun and excitement in ages. “Good, good.” Geta interjected. “You must return then, so we can continue our- enjoyment.” Red dusted your cheeks and you nodded. “It would be an honor as well as a delight to spend time with both of you again Caesars.” You bowed your head. The evening was over way too soon.

#gladiator 2 fanfic #gladiator ll #gladiator fanfic #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla x reader smut #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader smut #caracalla x reader #geta and caracalla #caracalla smut #geta x reader smut #geta x reader

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